I can’t tell where my breath begins and where yours exhales. Not when your lips solidify their placement on mine, wet and careless but your direction is still clear. Task not finished. We get so caught up in the impossibility of it all that I lose consciousness of my body. I don't know what is supposed to be mine, what is left of me that has yet to be given. But whatever is here is now in your possession. You become the direct source of why I'm alive. As you gasp from the sensitivity of my touch, I inhale. Chest rising to yours, begging for more life and you offer. You expand my lungs, direct the oxygen to my brain, pump the blood inside my veins and I am alive. It is because of this reason that I continue giving you what you want, what you deserve. My body is no longer mine but in use for you and not in some anti-feminine way but in an all-I-care-about-is-pleasing-you kind of way. Does it make you happy? Then I'll do it. Breathe into me again and I extend my life to you as an offering, as a thank you for making this feeling possible. I’m floating on clouds and eating it like cotton candy-sweet invisible flavour. I’m melting in the heat of your saliva, dancing with your tongue. I want to be wrapped in it. Covered by whatever residue of our dinner and faint smell of red wine you drank even though you wanted white. I'm forever indebted to you and not in a I-owe-you-tax kind of way but in an Ill-never-be-able-to-treat-you-as-good-as-you-treat-me kind of way. I’m not sure how I’ll sleep tonight, maybe I’ll ask you to stay again. I always sleep so well when you're next to me. Pet my hair again, stroke the thoughts from my mind and into the abyss of night. Nightmares are a myth when you’re by my side. My angel who was sent to save me.